August 8th

“Even the sparrow finds a home
   and the swallow a nest for herself,
   where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
   my King and my God.” Psalm 84:3

there, in a forgotten corner
just out of sight of the unobservant,
using a twig, a piece of yarn
and other ordinary findings, a
sparrow, unnoticed, weaves
a sanctuary in the midst of holiness—
a restless, tiny wanderer finding
respite under the eaves of grace,
the wind blocked by the Spirit’s hands
lifted in prayer, perhaps.
and, in that corner, in that nest,
perhaps we can realize that
there is space for us, not
a golden ballroom but grace
soft as dust, a gentle cradle
where we can rest weary souls
and, as the sparrow sings her lullaby
we discover that you offer
a song composed just for us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 7th

“I kept my faith, even when I said,
   “I am greatly afflicted”;” Psalm 116:10

grief
doesn’t ring the doorbell,
it just shows up, stretched out
in the soul’s recliner, having
left behind a trail of sorrow’s crumbs.
yet,
i still struggle to believe,
whispering my hope
through clenched jaws,
my faith wobbling and creaking
like those old pews which
have held generations of loss.
i could dam up my tears,
but i let them flow,
hoping they will baptize
that trust which seems
to need to be born anew
in far too many moments,
struggling to blossom
in every crack
of my aching heart.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 

August 6th

 “He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” Mark 8:34-35

no roadmaps or GPS,
no shortcuts—
that would be easy
and Jesus was too honest
to offer easy.
but that cross
that call to follow,
those are the challenges.
to release our grip
on every attempt to control
every competitive bone,
every well-memorized certainty
and toss them in that bonfire
of grace and hope,
watching life curl up
from the ashes and
seep deep into our souls.
because it may not be
so much about dying
as it is about letting go
of just enough
so we can find life.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 5th

“He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” Mark 8:29

ignore the confessions
the profound sermons
the memes filled with rigidity—
you,
with the bruised souls,
the bitter breath,
the stone-in-the-shoe weariness.
you,
whose muse is more doubt
than iron-clad belief.
you,
who dares to hope
in what the world ignores
and who hears that Voice
in the whispered prayers
of the forgotten and flawed.
you,
who writes down grace
on your shopping list
and longs for someone
to call you ‘my heart.’
what name do you give
to that Love which
wears the same life
you do?

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 4th

“How long will you assail a person,
   will you batter your victim, all of you,
   as you would a leaning wall, a tottering fence?” Psalm 62:3

try your best,
all you murmurers of anger,
hurling your words like lashing rain
against the weary!
stand there, arms folded,
your arrogance pressing like boots
on those knocked down by despair.
the ones who are already shattered
into a thousand-piece puzzle
don’t need your breath
to bend them, they can barely stand.
but like flowers tenaciously clinging
to the remains of ruined abbeys,
grace blooms in our fractures
and God—
yes, God!—
gently holds us up
like that fence a farmer
will not let crumble.
so, rage and bluster and threat
for as long as you want,
but remember—

we lean on love.
we lean on love.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 3rd

“If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” Romans 14:8

like a thief,
grief sneaks in—
but not to steal anything,
just sitting beside us
with hands folded quietly,
eyes brimming with memories.
with silent sighs, we whisper
in the emptiness where laughter
used to reside.
yet even there,
in that echoless hush,
we are not alone.
so then, whether we hold each breath
afraid it will tumble into sobs
or simply offer it back,
we are held in God’s grace
which never lets us go.
those we hold in our shattered hearts
are not lost, not forgotten,
and neither are we.
now and always, we belong
to the One who
waits with us
weeps with us
walks with us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 2nd

“O God, you are my God; I seek you;
   my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
   as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” Psalm 63:1

like a kitten tracking shadows
across a barren floor,
with each quivering breath
cradling too many tears to count,
i seek you
as i make my way, trying to avoid
the quicksand of grief.
shattered in pieces, parched by loneliness,
my soul longs for just a sip
of your grace, your peace, your life.
like a removal firm,
grief tries to empty one of
every memory
every moment
every touch.
yet,
as those arid winds whistle
through the echoes of night,
i remember your love
which cradles me, even when
i toss and turn, and so
i look for you to come
as dew on desert sands,
as hope’s whisper
in the silence of grief.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman